


Feathers and Sweaters

by Crollalanza



Series: The Captain and his Vice [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, Swearing, sweater love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2013168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suga knew Daichi had something on his mind - he’d been tetchy since Tokyo - but what hurt the most was that he wouldn’t talk about it. Because they’d always been able to talk, hadn’t they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers and Sweaters

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story after being inspired by a beautiful artwork by kageyxma on tumblr.

It had been a stupid argument, but they’d been bickering all day. Suga didn’t know what was wrong with Daichi, except that since Tokyo he’d been distant at times.  Deciding it was the stress of the upcoming Spring Prelims, he’d suggested a night out – not a late night – but a chance to unwind.

 

Daichi had shrugged, then probably realising he was being rude, he glanced up from tying his lace and smiled. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Shall I ask Asahi, and maybe Shimizu?”

The cloud had descended again. “If you want,” he’d replied.

“Or ...” Suga quickly amended. “Just us.”

Then Daichi had sighed. “Sorry, I’m not up to conversation, but just us would be good.”

_That’s something, I suppose._

There was a noodle bar halfway between their homes. It was one they’d been to before, as friends, as teammates, with the others, so no one would question why it was just the pair of them on a Friday night.  Suga had thought it ideal, for all those reasons, but mainly because it was usually quiet early on, and if Daichi needed to unload, then he’d have the chance.

Arriving first, he groaned. There was some kind of exchange students’ party, Western girls laughing as they tried to use chopsticks, who were eating before they headed off to a club. All were in high spirits, with bright coloured hair, and sparkly feather boas draped over their shoulders.   Suga thought about leaving, waiting outside for Daichi, but just then, a harried waiter showed him to a table for two in the middle on the room. It wasn’t private, or discreet, but maybe the noise around them, the fact that they could watch other people, would distract Daichi from whatever was bothering him. They could joke together, and get back to having a little bit of fun. Sitting down, Suga ordered an orange juice, a cola and a jug of water, and then settled down to wait.

He pondered Daichi’s recent mood. They’d all returned from Tokyo even more determined, trying out new things, and working hard to improve the team. Even Tsukishima had at last decided to try expanding his undoubted abilities. And whilst they all knew it wasn’t going to be easy, everyone was enthusiastic and putting the practice in.  

“Hey, he’s gorgeous,” called someone in English. “I wouldn’t say no.”

Suga looked up to see one of the girls tilting back on her chair. She was slim, with black and white hair like a badger, several fronds of which she’d teased into spikes to frame her face, and vivid purple lips. He smiled nervously, and then picked up the menu, hoping they’d leave him alone if he didn’t look their way.

“Oh, he understands us. Come on, sweetie, tell us your name!” called another girl.  “We won’t eat ya.”

“Sugawara,” he replied, knowing they wouldn’t give up unless he played along. “Sugawara Koushi.”

“Like sugar!  How sweet,” shrieked a girl in a pink wig to match her dress.

“No, it’s Sugawara,” he repeated, emphasising the  ‘s’.

“College boy?” asked the first girl, and laughed a little. “No, I don’t think so.”

“High school,” he said.

“Aww, sweetheart,” catcalled another. “Is this a first date?”

“Your girlfriend’s late,” said the first girl, smirking.

“Uh ... no,” he said, struggling to get a word in as all four girls joined in the conversation.

“So you’re really early!” laughed the pink girl.  She leant closer, and spoke slow and loudly. “British boys could learn a lot from you. That really is sweet, Sugar- cube. Did you buy her a gift?”

“N-no.”

“Should have bought flowers, Koushi. Or chocolates,” said the badger like girl. “A little heart shaped chocolate would have been so thoughtful.”

“Yeah, but I -”

“How late is she now?”

“Uh ... fifteen ...” He shook his head.  “But I am not meeting-”

“Oh,” the pink haired girl whooped. “Girls, he’s blushing. We should let him wait in peace. But ...” She leaned across her friend and licked her lips, close enough to kiss him if she’d wanted. “If she doesn’t turn up, then you could always join us.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Daichi, great.” Suga half rose from his chair, grateful the girls didn’t seem to understand Japanese that well. “No, of course you’re not.”

“Good.” He removed his jacket, revealing a purple-brown sweater and black jeans. Normal, everyday clothes, not necessarily for a date, but clothes that suited him, clothes Suga liked.

That Daichi knew he liked. Suga felt his spirits lift.

“OOOH, two of them. Hey, you’re not bad, either,” called the badger hair girl. She pouted her purple lips at Daichi. “You should both join us.”

“Uh... No. Thank you.” Daichi took a seat, his back to their table, and reverted to Japanese. “Sorry, I’m late. Mum was on my case about that Contemporary Literature essay.”

“Ah.”  Suga remembered Daichi hadn’t got the greatest grade, and his mum as former literature graduate wasn’t happy. “Is she still telling you to give up volleyball?”

“Come on, handsome, your cutie-pie friend at least told us his name.”

Daichi’s lips formed a thin line, his jaw set as he clenched his teeth. “Can we go somewhere else?”

“Er... I’ve ordered drinks,” Suga said apologetically. “We could get our food to go, if you want.”

“And eat it where? It’s pissing down out there,” Daichi grumbled. Then he sighed. “Sorry, it’s not your fault.”

“They’ll calm down in a bit,” Suga said. He stopped speaking as the waiter served the drinks. “So ... _is_ your mum still telling you to give up volleyball?”

As he sipped his coke, Daichi shook his head. “She knows it’s important to me, and if Karasuno do well, I could get a college place on the back of it, so she’s not complaining.” He took another swallow of his drink, hesitating before asking, “What about your parents?”

“Uh ...” Suga shrugged. “My grades are okay.” 

“I was thinking -”

“I think they’re on a date. That’s why they’re ignoring us!” screeched the pink-wigged girl.

“Let’s pay and leave,” Daichi muttered. “I’m really not in the mood for this.”

 “They’re only having fun. Look, they’ve finished their food and’ll be gone soon,” hissed Suga. “Calm down, okay. Imagine they’re Tanaka or Noya being idiots. It’ll be good practise for keeping your cool in a match.”

Daichi glowered a little, took another drink, but as Suga smiled at him, he started to grin back. Taking his cue, the waiter walked back to them, and they ordered without studying the menu- mapo tofu for Suga and shoyu ramen for Daichi. They talked a little, not about much, but Suga made a joke about Noya’s hair, comparing it to the badger girl’s and Daichi, although he didn’t say anything, at least laughed for a moment.

Something was wrong. Suga didn’t know what it was, but it was gnawing at Daichi. The thing was, he couldn’t tell if it was serious. He’d always thought that if Daichi had decided they couldn’t carry on seeing each other, then he would know. They’d been friends for so long, and knew each other so well, that he was sure there’d have been a hollow inside him, a warning sounding through his brain, but aside from a vague feeling of irritation and concern emanating from Daichi, Suga sensed nothing.

“Still eating that, then?” Daichi muttered, when the waited brought their food.

“Uh ... yeah, I like it. Spicier the better, you know that,” Suga replied.

“Thought you might have...” He grimaced, then waved his hand. “Forget it. Not important.”

“Uh...” Blinking, Sugar put down his chopsticks. “What’s wrong?”

A cackle reached their ears as the girls paid their bill. “OOH, they’re arguing! Lover’s tiff, d’you reckon?”

His jaw set, his fingers flexing as he kept his iron control, Daichi shifted in his chair, sideways on to the girls. He bent down, picked up one of the feather boas, and for a moment, Suga thought he was going to snap. But he handed it to the badger- haired girl, saying calmly, and in good, if accented, English, “Have a good night, ladies.”

“Sure you two won’t join us.”

“I’m only seventeen,” Daichi replied.

“Aww, we wouldn’t tell,” they chorused, but they tripped out towards the door, blowing kisses, giggling and leaving a trail of glitter and feathers in their wake.

Suga picked up his chopsticks and began to eat. Daichi was staring after the girls, watching them through the window as they made their way to the bus stop.

“We’d never have got into a club,” Suga murmured. “Well, you might have done, but I look underage.”

“What?” Daichi shook his head irritably. “I didn’t want to go anywhere with them. Just wondered where they were from.”

“British, I think,” Suga replied, relaxing slightly. “They looked as if they were having fun.”

“They were very loud.”  He said no more, tucking into his food, but he looked morose.

 _Great. Friday night and he’s in a strop._  

Suga had thought they might eat, then go back to his and watch a DVD or something. His parents were out and his sister at a sleepover, so they would have had the house to themselves. But if this atmosphere continued, Suga wasn’t sure he could be arsed. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Daichi muttered, shovelling more noodles into his mouth. “How’s your food? Hot enough?”

“It’s fine. How’s yours?”

“S’ okay. Maybe I should have tried something different.” 

There was an edge to his voice, a look in his eyes, and suddenly with that short sentence - that statement - everything became clear.

“Some _thing_ or some _one_?”

“What?”

“You heard.”

Their eyes met. “Yeah, I heard, but I have no idea what you’re on about,” Daichi’s voice was soft, and Suga wanted to believe him but ...

“You’ve been a dick since we got back from Tokyo. I don’t know why because you won’t talk and we’ve always been able to talk, so I can only assume it’s –” Suga broke off, waiting for Daichi to interrupt, to stop him with a laugh or a grin, or just some kind of reassurance. But he was silent, just staring down at his food.

“Fine!” Suga pushed his chair out, reached for his wallet and threw some yen on the table. “I’ll see you at practise. Don’t worry, I’ll closet myself in the other gym with the B team. We won’t have to speak.”

“Suga... wait,” Daichi’s hand whipped upwards to grab his, but Suga’s reflexes were too good and he dodged away.

Out in the street the rain had diminished to a faint drizzle. A bus drew up that went his way, but Suga let it pass by, preferring to walk. He looked back over his shoulder, half expecting, and fully hoping Daichi would follow, but no one appeared from the restaurant. He started to run, increasing his pace to work off his frustration – not just with Daichi but everything that had happened since Tokyo, since the loss against Aobajousai, since ... Dammit, since Kageyama took his place. Because as much as he tried to put on a bluff face, it hurt. It really hurt.

As his parents weren’t home, he could have watched a film in the lounge, sprawling out on the sofa without his mum nagging. But he didn’t feel like it. Instead he trundled up to his room, and lay on the top of his bed. Out of his jacket pocket he pulled out his phone; he checked for messages, but there weren’t any.

_Shall I send a text? But I don’t know what I’ve done and until he talks to me, then I can’t apologise._

And that’s what hurt him most, much more than losing his place, he realised, because he and Daichi had always talked.

 _I should sleep. I’ll find out tomorrow_. And then he took a breath. _It’s not over. If it was, he’d have said. I know him. Daichi would’ve been honest._

_Unless he doesn’t want to upset the team._

_No, he’s not that selfish. He’s not that ... His mum’s on his case. Maybe he regrets staying on for volleyball. Hell, did I push him into it? But ... he’s good. He’s..._

Round and round his head spun each thought, twisting, turning, on a loop, repeating, worrying at him.

He heard his parents come home at midnight, feigned sleep when his mum peered into his room, then stared at the ceiling, listening as the rain began to fall more heavily against his windowpane.

 _It’s no good,_ he decided _,_ reaching for his phone. _I’m not going to be able to sleep until this is sorted out._

“Out of charge, brilliant!” he seethed. He debated using the landline, but that would mean leaving his room, which would wake his mum, and then she’d want to know what the matter was and tell him there was no way he was going out at that time of night.

Getting up, he wriggled back into his jeans and sweater, shrugged on a jacket and dropped out of his window to the ground below. It was a half-hour walk to Daichi’s; Suga covered in ten, barely thinking about what he was doing. He didn’t know what he was going to say, had no idea if Daichi was actually going to see him, but ...

_Course he will. We’ve been friends for far too long. Even if we break up_

_But what if we can’t go back to being friends?_

He thought about turning back, but as he gazed up the street, he saw a pale light coming out of a window. Daichi’s window. And there was a silhouette in view, moving around, pacing the room, maybe. Certainly the figure was rolling back his shoulders, the sign Suga knew that Daichi was gearing himself up for something.  Lifting his chin, Suga resumed his journey, not caring that the rain was soaking through his clothes.

The Sawamuras had a small garden, with gravel in the beds to prevent weeds. It was easy enough to collect a few shards in his hand, and easier still with his Setter skills, to lob a few at Daichi’s window.

“What the...” Daichi opened the window and peered through the night, his eyes narrowing as they tried to adjust to the dark. “Suga ... is that you?”

“I ... want to speak to you. Say sorry,” he began, then bit his lip because he hadn’t really wanted to apologise, not without knowing what the hell he was supposed to have done. He cleared his throat. “Can I come up?”

“Er ... yeah, ‘course,” Daichi, pulled up the blind and opened his window wider

It was a move they’d carried out before – even before they were ‘together’. There was a tree in the garden, and Daichi’s parents had once suspended a tyre on a rope from one of the branches. The tyre had long since gone, but part of the rope remained.  Catching it in his hand, Suga began his climb, kicking using his legs against the tree trunk, until he’d reached Daichi’s window ledge.

“You’re dressed,” he said stupidly, recognising the sweater Daichi had worn that night.  And the jeans. And the jacket. And a pair of trainers.

“Uh ... yeah, I was about to come over to your place,” Daichi muttered. “You didn’t answer your phone, and I wanted to ... um ... talk. Apologise, I s’pose.”

 _Ah, here it comes._ “Is there any point me coming inside?” Suga mumbled.

Daichi frowned, looking puzzled. “Well, if you don’t want to get any wetter, then you need to come in. You’re drenched.”

Suga chewed his lip. _That doesn’t sound like a break-up speech_ , he thought, and swung his legs into the room.

“You’re squelching,” Daichi whispered, and threw him a towel. “Take your shoes off, at least. And that jacket.”

“Sure.” He kicked off his trainers, and hung his jacket over the back of a chair. “Not the best of nights, eh?”

“Don’t think you’re here to talk about the weather, are you,” Daichi stated.  He sighed, then stepped closer, taking one of Suga’s hands in his. “Look, I’m sorry I was in a mood. Lots of things on my mind and I’m taking it out on you. Which is unfair, I know, but I guess because I know you’ll always be there for me.”  He swallowed. “Well, I hope you’ll always be there for me, then I ... um ... take you for granted. I tend to think you’re ... um ... a duck.”

“What!”

Daichi grinned a little. “You know, like one of those English phrases we learnt ‘water off a duck’s back’. You take all my shit, you take everyone’s shit, and you listen and make it better, preening our feathers, so to speak. But I guess, sometimes there’s too much water. And maybe even ducks get wet.”

“If you don’t stop with the duck analogy, I’m gonna start quacking,” Suga said, trying to sound stern, but inside he was laughing.

“Sorry,” Daichi said, and taking another step towards him, gave him a tight hug, before suddenly releasing him. “Bloody hell, you’re soaked through.”

He reached over to the hook on his door, pulled down his dressing gown and held it out. “Come on, out of those things.”

Suga turned his back, supremely conscious that Daichi was watching him, maybe with that small half smile of his.

“Still shy,” Daichi whispered. “Don’t know why, ‘cause I’ve seen you with your shirt off loads of times.”

“Comparisons aren’t great.”

“Huh?”

Suga shook his head, wriggled out of his jeans and boxers, then tied the dressing gown tight around his waist. It enveloped him, the shoulders too big, the arms too long. “Doesn’t matter.” He turned back to Daichi, not approaching even though Daichi was sitting on the edge of his bed. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Ah, that sounds like my vice-captain,” Daichi said, sighing. Taking off his shoes, he shifted into the middle of the bed, and lay back, his eyes closed. “A few things, really. Some of them volleyball based, some not.”

Suga took a breath. “Is it me?”

Daichi shook his head slowly. “It’s to do with you, but it’s not you,” he murmured.

“That makes no sense.”

“The future,” Daichi replied bleakly. “Those exchange students kind of emphasised it. I think that’s why I was in a strop.”

“What, you want to go out to clubs and get drunk, or something?”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” He opened his eyes, shifted position so he was on his side, and patted the space next to him. “Will you come here, so we can talk properly? I don’t want to wake Mum.”

Suga sat, then noticing Daichi’s slightly raised eyebrow, stretched out his legs, so he lay alongside him. They didn’t touch, or speak, but stared at each other, neither quite knowing how to start.

Then Daichi reached across and twisted a strand of Suga’s hair between his fingers. “Mum’s been nagging me about university,” he muttered.

“So she _does_ want you to give up volleyball?”

“No. She’s fine with that because if the team does well and I get noticed, then getting a volleyball scholarship will be easier. I’ll ... well ...I’d be up against Asahi and Oikawa, and people like that, but it’s going to be easier than relying only on grades.”

“You can beat Oikawa,” Suga replied, turning his face to kiss Daichi’s palm. “On and off the court.”

“Ha, I hope so, but ... um ... it’s not really that. There’s something else bothering me.” He resumed stroking Suga’s hair. “What are you going to do? About next year, I mean.”

“Same as you. Apply, study, pray I get in, I guess.”

“Mmm, thought so. Suga...” He trailed off, and bit his lip. “Look, I don’t want to say this, and hell knows I don’t want you to leave, but maybe ... maybe you should quit.”

“Uh, what!” The question exploded from Suga’s lips, far louder than he’d meant, and Daichi hushed him immediately with a finger across his mouth.

Suga nipped him. “You want me off the team,” he muttered. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me? You and Ukai decided, have you? Is that why you’ve been so distant since Tokyo? Just tell me. I know I’m not going to replace Kageyama, okay. “

“No!” Daichi stopped his protestations again, but this time with his mouth.

The kiss was intense, searching, hard, powerful and almost painful, until Daichi pulled back, just a little, and then it became tender, soft, with Suga moving onto his back, and Daichi’s hand softly caressing his cheek.

“No,” he insisted. “We don’t want you off the team, but me getting a sports scholarship is gonna be hard, and I’ve got a starting spot. So ...” he gulped and pulled back. “Suga, if your grades are gonna suffer, then you’ve got to quit. I can’t watch you fuck up your future.”

The knot of tension in his shoulders that he’d barely been aware of, dissolved as a glow of heat waved through him. “Is that all?” he said. “Is that really all you’ve been worried about? _My_ future?”

“Uhm... yeah ... sort of,” Daichi mumbled. “But it kind of affects me too... doesn’t it? If we _do_ apply to the same place, then ...”

Twining his fingers into the thick thatch of Daichi’s hair, Suga pulled him down towards him. “My grades are going to be fine,” he said thickly, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in his throat. “You forget, Daichi-san, I don’t get easily distracted when studying.” He kissed him, and slipped his hands under Daichi’s sweater, running them up his muscular back and loving the naked lust flaring in his eyes, knowing it mirrored his own.

“Don’t get distracted, eh?” Daichi murmured, and lifting himself slightly, he untied the dressing gown, and began to trace patterns on Suga’s skin, starting from the neck, and working downwards.

“We’re not study-” he started to say, but Daichi had decided to use his mouth as well as his fingertips, leaving Suga incapable of sentient thought.

“’S’unfair,” he mumbled. “You’ve still got your clothes on.”

“Mmm, not for long,” Daichi replied, and kneeling up, he pulled off his sweater, chucking it into the corner, then stood up, now just in his jeans, and smiled down at Suga. “Gonna help me.”

“My pleasure,” he said, and inched forwards, sitting up, so his mouth was level with Daichi’s stomach, and his hands could find the buttons on his jeans. “Never thought.” He stopped to kiss Daichi’s hipbone, while his hands tugged at the jeans “Never thought you could look fitter, but ...” He kissed him again, lazily using his tongue to swirl a path across and down. “Training camp has really honed you.” Stopping what he was doing (and making Daichi groan in frustration) Suga smiled up at him. “Those girls would be so jealous of me right now.”

“What girls? Oh, them.” He pushed Suga back on the bed, lay next to him, and firmly planted his hand on Suga’s waist, his thumb pressing and caressing his hipbone. “They preferred you, cutie-pie,” he said in English, affecting a falsetto.

“Yeah, right.  Undressed there’s no comparison,” Suga murmured, then before Daichi could reply, he kissed him again, and slowly let his hands begin their exploration.

“Boy, I’ve missed this.  Training camp was good, but being that close to you in that dormitory every night and not able to touch was ... _bloody_ frustrating.”

And then they stopped talking as hands roved, mouths smoothed, and tongues teased. It had been two weeks since they’d been together, but it could have a been a month, or a matter of moments, the familiarity between them, and yet the surprise each continued to get from the other, keeping them alive and wanting.

Sated and relaxed, Suga rested his cheek on Daichi’s chest listening to the thrum of his heart, in perfect rhythm with his own. He could feel his eyes closing, but remnants of an earlier conversation drifted into his mine.

“You still awake?” he whispered tentatively.

“Mmm.” His lips pressed against Suga’s brow. “What’s up?”

“What was all that stuff about trying something different? You didn’t mean the raman, did you?”

Daichi nipped his shoulder. “You’re too bloody perceptive for your own good, Suga-san.”

“Yep, so spill.”

Groaning, Daichi propped himself onto his elbow, his free hand tracing Suga’s profile. “All of you in Tokyo. All of you – no exceptions – tried so hard. Coach Ukai talks about us evolving, and we’ve seen that with Hinata and Kageyama. But there was you, as well, and Noya wanting to hit, Asahi learning a different serve, Tanaka ... _Tanaka_ – his accuracy is improving at a frightening pace. And Tsukishima, even he started to learn – to want to learn.”

“Uhm, that’s good isn’t it?” replied Suga, and kissed Daichi’s finger.

“I didn’t.” He let the words sink in. “And now I’m not sure how our team will work together. If _I’m_ going to fit.”

“Dumbass,” Suga whispered, enjoying the flare of outrage in Daichi’s eyes.  He squeezed his upper arm, fingers gripping his thick muscles. “You, Captain Sawamura-Senpai, already fit. Strong, dependable, _terrifying._ ”

Daichi snorted and ruffled Suga’s hair. “You make me sound like a bear.”

“No, a big Papa crow, snapping his beak to keep us in order, and wings large enough block any spike.” He tried to stifle a yawn.  “I should go. We have early practise tomorrow.”

“Stay.” Daichi murmured. “I’ll wake you up in time.”

***

The sun was only just rising, but the birds perched in the tree outside Daichi’s window began their song to the dawn early, possibly woken up by Daichi’s mother who was clattering around in the kitchen.

“Hell!”

“Wha-huh-wha,” Suga squinted at Daichi. “Whassup?”

“I forgot to set the alarm,” Daichi whispered, and checked his watch. “Shit, we’ll be very late unless we get a move on. But Mum’s already up.”

“’Kay, I’ll leave by the window,” replied Suga. He stretched a little, kissed Daichi on the shoulder, then slid off the bed. Still dark in the room, but he padded across to the pile of clothes, pulled on his jeans and scrabbled around for his sweater. “Jacket?”

“On the chair.”

“Cool.” Smiling, he zipped it up tight to his neck, and pushed open the window. “I’ll change at the gym.”

“I’ll see you at the end of the road,” Daichi said, “and bring you a bit of breakfast. Nothing to stop us meeting on the way, is there?”

“Nothing at all,” he said, and grabbing the rope, he clambered down, dropping softly onto the gravel path. Despite the grey clouds hovering overhead, it was a brighter day to Suga. He felt as if he were swirling in a huge well of relief because what had been wrong was nothing, not really. 

Daichi sped to meet him ten minutes later.  They munched on cereal bars, swigged milk from a carton, then ate apples, Suga nibbling at his, Daichi taking medium bites, finishing before he got to school.

“Oh - oh, we’re late,” Daichi warned. “Even Tanaka’s there.”

“Nah, we’re on time. Everyone’s just eager. Who d’you reckon was first, Hinata or Kageyama?”

“Well, Hinata’s chattering  and can’t keep still, while Kageyama’s scowling, so I’d say ...” Daichi lifted one hand, as if to point, then laughed. “No bloody idea.

After unlocking the door, Daichi chucked the keys to Suga, leaving him to open the equipment room, whilst he went through the practise schedule. They’d discussed it on the walk over, Suga leading the B team – and Hinata - in the girls’ gymnasium, Daichi staying behind with the others. Sometimes they’d swap a player over, or join up earlier, in those cases Daichi would call.

Damn!

“Daichi!” Suga called, tapping his pocket. “I don’t have my phone on me. I must have ... uh ... left it at home.” He felt his face flush a little and turned back to the basket of balls, dragging out.

“No problem, Coach Ukai’s just called. He’s gonna be late, so we’ll start with a joint warm up. Five receives each.”

“Want me to throw?” Suga asked.

“Nope, I want you to join in. I’ll throw.” His eyes flicked to Suga. “You ... er ... need to change.”

Trying not to smile, or make it think as if it were in any way abnormal that he’d turned up for practise without his kit bag and wearing jeans, Suga, in a manner he hoped was nonchalant, unzipped his jacket.

If he’d been in the changing room, then he could have got away with it. If he’d not just been the last person the Captain was talking to, so they were all looking his way, then he probably could have run to the changing room, or hurriedly put his jacket back on without it being obvious.

But he wasn’t by himself, and he’d taken his jacket off, and now all eyes were on him (except Daichi, whose head was in his hands).

“Sugawara- san, have you shrunk?” shouted Nishinoya. “Your sweater. It’s ...”

“That’s a city-boy style!” roared Tanaka in disapproval. “That Nekoma captain, he wore them like that.”

“What? Far too big and falling off the shoulders?” Suga heard Tsukishima say. Yamaguchi giggled, then pulled his face straight, looking straight at the floor.

This time Suga couldn’t hide the blush in a basket full of volleyballs. He thought about ignoring them all, but Noya’s interest was piqued, as he leapt closer to examine the sweater, dragging Hinata with him who found it hard to stay still at the best of times. And now Asahi was studying him with a curious expression on his face. 

 _Need help here, Daichi_ – he pleaded silently, but Daichi’s shoulders were trembling, probably with laughter.

“Uh ...”he began, and tried to pull the sweater up. “It’s um ... obviously it’s ... um ... Yeah, I’ll get changed.”

“Isn’t that Captain-san’s sweater?”

Suga froze.

“It is, it is,” gabbled Hinata excitedly, turning his head in rapid-fire movement between Suga and Daichi.  “You wore it on the bus coming home, Senpai. I remember because Kageyama had that bottle of cola and he sprayed it everywhere –”

“Because you’d shaken it up!” Kageyama interrupted fiercely.

“And you had to take it off, and –” Hinata continued, avoiding Kageyama’s kick.

“And Suga took it home in his bag,” Daichi finished smoothly as he stepped forwards to separate them. “Good of your mum to wash it for me, Suga.” He clapped his hands, and his eyes glittered. “Right, now we’ve finished trashing Suga’s Tokyo fashion style, let’s get ready for those receives.  Noya, you’re up first.”

 _‘You git!’_ Suga mouthed.

Although Suga caught Tanaka and Noya stretching their t-shirt necks over one shoulder, then laughing uproariously at each other as they perfected a catwalk type of strut, he figured he and Daichi had got off light. Asahi had been watching them both thoughtfully, but then Suga had a feeling Asahi knew anyway, and had just decided it was none of his business.

Getting changed after practise was finished, he picked up the sweater, holding it to his face to breathe in Daichi’s scent. It was soft on his cheek, something that had faintly surprised him when Daichi had first worn it because he’d expected something more functional with coarser yarn. But then, Daichi was like that, tough looking, tough talking, confident, brave, taking on all-comers. Yet ... he was soft too, and warm, and concerned, so concerned about Suga.

A hand touched him on the back, lifting slightly, so five fingertips mazed their way over his skin.

“I should take that back,” murmured Daichi.

“Mmm, I’ll wear a training top home,” Suga agreed as he folded the sweater. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.  I like you in it,” Daichi said, winding his arms around Suga’s waist. “But it’s far too distracting.”  He dropped a kiss, then another on Suga’s collarbone, working his way up to his cheek. “I can feel you blushing. Can’t take a compliment, can you? Odd, ‘cause you’ll accept them about your game, or your school work, but not yourself...”  He turned Suga around in his arms, and stared down at him. “All that comparison crap last night. What was that about?”

“Uh ... nothing. Just... you’re fit, I’m kind of scrawny.”

Daichi shook his head, as if in disbelief. “Suga, those girls last night were all over you. I was watching them from the door, and if I’d not turned up, I don’t think they’d have let you go.” He leant even closer, and muttered, “Can’t say I blame them.”

“They liked you,” Suga mumbled.

“Yeah, sure.” He quirked a smile. “I was the one they’d have put up with to stand a chance with you.”

“Rubbish.”

“Accept a compliment, for once, dumbass! You’re hot. And you’re not scrawny, you’re ... lithe.”

And then, as Daichi nuzzled Suga’s neck, and Suga forgot that they weren’t quite alone and if anyone walked in he would not be able to explain this, there was a knock on the door, and a voice called out, “I’m off, guys. The others have gone.”

“That’s Asahi,” Daichi said, and laughingly relinquished Suga. “Discreet goofball, isn’t he?”

“Mmm,” Suga replied. “It’s like he knows.”

“He does.”

“You told him?”

“No, course not. I think he suspected a while ago but I’m guessing it clicked today, with the sweater story.”

“Uh, why?”

“Because, my _cutie-pie_ ,” Daichi teased in English. “Hinata was right and I was wearing that sweater, but Asahi was the one that handed it back to me after it had dried. He saw me stuff it into my bag.”

He picked up his kit bag, and held out his hand as if to take the sweater, but something stopped him. “You wear it.”

“It’s too big,” Suga protested as Daichi slipped it over his head.  The sweater hung off one shoulder, exposing him to Daichi’s intense scrutiny. “Look, we got away with it once, but won’t a second time. This is so obviously not mine.”

“Just to my house. You need to pick up your sweater, after all. We could ... uh ... make an exchange,” Daichi said, a wicked gleam in his eye. “And the house is empty.”

Unable to help himself, Suga blushed and then smiled. He pulled up the sweater, but it slipped off his right shoulder again, causing Daichi to smirk.

“Yeah,” Daichi muttered, drawing Suga close. “Far too distracting.”


End file.
